


Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with traps)

by ladygriffyndor



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, High School, References to Shakespeare, Teen Angst, because clarke is also a nerd, clarke is the high school badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygriffyndor/pseuds/ladygriffyndor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not like he is an overprotective, sexist asshole, you know?” Octavia sighed, leaning her head on Lincoln’s chest. “I mean, overprotective? Definitely. Asshole? Only around 60% of the time. But sexist? Never. He just doesn’t want me to end up like my mother, he really wants what is best for me.”</p><p>Lincoln nodded, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know, I just wish that that didn’t mean we have to cuddle in the broom closet.”</p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Bellamy is always making sure Octavia has little to no time for dating, so when she finally finds herself a boyfriend they decide to pay Lincoln's best friend to date Bellamy. Once they reach Clarke's price, it is her job to keep Bellamy busy enough to not notice Octavia's relationship.
            </blockquote>





	Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with traps)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a hella long fic, but I am so proud of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do <3  
> Title is from "Much Ado About Nothing" by Shakespeare

“It’s not like he is an overprotective, sexist asshole, you know?” Octavia sighed, leaning her head on Lincoln’s chest. “I mean, overprotective? Definitely. Asshole? Only around 60% of the time. But sexist? Never. He just doesn’t want me to end up like my mother, he really wants what is best for me.”

Lincoln nodded, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know, I just wish that that didn’t mean we have to cuddle in the broom closet.”

“We also get to make out in the Spanish classroom,” she offered weakly. But even in the darkness she knew he wasn’t exactly thrilled by her joke. “I’m sorry, I just really don’t want to disappoint him.”

“And telling him you are dating me would be a disappointment.”

Octavia froze in his arms. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s how it feels.” He swallowed lightly and she pulled away, trying to make out his facial expression in the darkness. “It feels like I am not good enough for you to tell the truth to your brother, like I am not even worth the try. I'm not 'meet the parents' material.”

“Lincoln, shut up! You know that is not how I feel about you. I just–– remember what happened with Atom. As soon as I told Bellamy that we were dating he signed me up for that stupid oil painting class. I  ended up being buried in art classes and French tutoring, he took me to museums with him every waking hour or made me hang out at the coffee shop where he works out. Before I knew it I didn’t have a single minute to spare, and Atom broke up with me in two weeks.”

“I wouldn’t break up with you, not if you were at least  _ trying  _ to see me. We’re hiding inside a broom closet right now for Christ’s sake, we’d find a way.”

“Except that if Bellamy knew I was dating you he’d make sure I can’t even  _ think  _ about broom closets.”

Lincoln let out a long sigh and Octavia inched forward, seeking him with her lips and sighing in relief when he allowed himself be found. They kissed in silence for a moment, but none of them relaxed under the other's touch.

“I’m sorry, Linc.”

“I know.”

It was her turn to sigh, once more leaning against his strong body. “I just wish he’d get some friends, a girlfriend even. Loosen up, realize that life is more than school school school, you know?”

Lincoln wasn’t exactly a big talker, but with her he always had something to say, even if it was only a small encouragement to have her continue talking. But this time, he merely froze against her and remained quiet. 

“Linc?”

He shushed her. 

“ _ Excuse me?” _

“Don’t interrupt my train of thought, I just had an amazing idea.”

“We should elope to Germany?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Germany?”

“You can drink beer at sixteen, I’d say it’s a pretty damn good place to elope.”

“I have a better idea, one that doesn’t include having to learn a brand new language.”

_ “Sprich für dich selbst,”  _ she mocked him. “Speak for yourself.”

“You are quite sexy when you shamelessly promote your ability with languages.”

“Thank you, now back to your brilliant idea.”

“Right. We are going to set up Bellamy on a date.”

Octavia laughed a little too loud making the two of them freeze for a couple of minutes, barely breathing as they waited for a professor to bust open the door and land them both in detention. 

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” She whispered after a few moments. “Mr. AP Classes doesn’t have time for dating. The girls always get tired of having to fight for his attention against old, dead and arguably heroic dudes.”

“That’s where the ‘brilliant’ part of my plan comes up: we set them up with someone who won’t get tired.”

“I’m not following you,” Octavia frowned. 

Lincoln grinned, pulling her closer to him. “We are going to ask Clarke to date him, and in exchange we’ll offer her… pancakes. She’ll do anything for pancakes.”

“So you are basically offering to buy my brother an escort.”

“Hey! My best friend is  _ not  _ a prostitute.”

“No, but we would be paying for her services, and those services include dating my brother. That’s what an escort is.”

“I guess that if you want to see it that way…”

“I’m sorry Linc, I know you mean well. But I don’t see how getting Clarke Griffin of all people to fake date my brother is going to help.”

“What do you mean ‘of all people’?”

“You know what I mean.” The silence following her sentence let her know that no, he  _ didn’t  _ know what she meant. “I love Clarke, she is great Linc, you know I like her. But first of all, it is common knowledge Clarke Griffin doesn’t date boys. Second of all she is the  _ furthest  _ thing from Bellamy’s type. And finally, why on earth would she do that? I bet she has much more interesting things to do than pretend to date my brother. Besides that is just… cruel.”

“They don’t have to get married, O. She just has to distract him a bit so we can hang out somewhere we can actually see each other.”

“Yet again you dismiss the Spanish classroom,” she mumbled. 

“O,” he insisted. Octavia pulled away from him and buried her face on her hands. “Fine, you know what? You are right… I don’t know what I was thinking, having her fake date him is just cruel. But how about we ask her to hang out with him? Just hang out, as friends. If it doesn’t work then we’ll come up with a different plan, but as of now this is the only way I can think of to finally get to take you out on a date.”

She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. She knew it was wrong, but what Bellamy was doing was wrong too. They both meant well in the end, so that helped, didn’t it? It's the thought what counts?

“I know I’ll regret this, but I guess that having Clarke hang out with him wouldn’t be the worst thing I could do to my brother.”

Lincoln kissed her eagerly, and she could taste the smile on his lips. 

 

*******

 

Clarke was sketching on the corner of her Biology notebook when a note materialized in front of her. Even without looking up she recognized Lincoln’s hand, so she opened the folded piece of paper as discreetly as she could. Her eyebrows arched at the blunt phrase written in his familiar messy handwriting. 

 

**I have a business proposition for you.**

 

Clarke’s elegant handwriting filled in the lines after his, handing him back the note when the professor wasn’t looking. 

 

**It better not include me doing Octavia’s homework again  
so you two can sneak out to the broom closet, it’s getting weird.   
It better not include homicide either, or tuna.**

 

Lincoln stifled back a laugh and Clarke smirked down to her notes. 

 

**Don’t worry, no seafood or murder included.  
** **It is about Octavia though, it’s in the interest of not sneaking out to broom closets anymore.**

 

**I’m mildly interested. What do you need?**

 

**I need you to become BFFs with Bellamy.**

 

This time she couldn’t hold it in, Clarke let out a loud laughter that she tried to disguise poorly with a cough. The professor turned around to glare at her and she crumpled the piece of paper in her hand. 

“Miss Griffin,” he snickered as he approached her bench. It was common knowledge that teachers were always trying to get Clarke in trouble. “Is something funny?”

“Sorry, Mr. Pike. ‘Gherkin’ is just such a funny word, always cracks me up, I can’t help it.”

A few students giggled behind her and she avoided a smirk by pressing her lips together. Pike frowned. 

“Perhaps it would be less funny if I asked you to explain lacto-fermentation right now, and much less funny if I tell you this is 5% of your grade.”

However, another piece of common knowledge in Arkadia High was that Clarke was very good at outsmarting teachers, even in topics they hadn’t covered in class yet. 

“Lactic acid fermentation is a biological process by which glucose and other six-carbon sugars, such as sucrose or lactose, are converted into cellular energy and lactate,” she replied without a beat. This time she wasn’t strong enough to keep the smirk from spreading on her face. “This is, as we all know, the process through which gherkins go to become pickles. Although in the state of Connecticut a pickle isn’t technically a pickle unless it bounces.”

The giggling in the classroom became louder and Clarke braced herself for the predictable outcome. Outsmarting the teachers often (if not always) lead to the same:

“Jaha’s office,” Pike spat. “Now.”

More smugly than it was advisable, Clarke gathered her stuff and exited the classroom triumphantly, allowing her feet to take her down the familiar path to the headmaster’s office. Unceremoniously she let herself fall on the annoyingly yellow plastic chairs as the secretary rolled her eyes. 

“Mr. Jaha, your usual is here,” she spoke into the interphone. 

Clarke smirked at the sigh that was heard through the speaker. “Send Miss Griffin in.”

 

*******

  
  


“I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” Lincoln apologized as the two friends pushed their trays along the line in the cafeteria, not exactly looking forward at the tasteless lunch they were about to be served. 

“Don’t worry about it, I didn’t even get detention. I’m telling you, old Jaha is softening.”

“Might have to do with the fact that you are unbearably cute, and that you are on his office far too often.”

“Now you are just flattering me,” Clarke sing sang before grimacing at the so-called tacos they were placing on her tray. “Which is good, considering you want me to make Bellamy a friendship bracelet.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Will you at least hear me out?”

“No,” she cut him off short. “Look, you and Octavia are a cute couple, you really are. But you need to get your shit together and come clean to her brother. Not find yet more lies to shield yourselves behind of. That is the selfless and best friend advise part of my refusal to listen to your crazy plan. The entirely egoistic part is that I am  _ not  _ going to talk to anyone reading the Odyssey for fun,” she stated firmly, gesturing at Bellamy across the cafeteria. 

Lincoln followed her gaze and found Bellamy sitting on his usual table, next to him Miller and Monty were talking about something, their foreheads almost touching across the lunch table. Bellamy was submerged in a thick book, his lower lip trapped in between his teeth.

She wasn’t going to lie, he was very good looking. And the few times they had crossed words he had been nothing but charming and kind. But he was definitely not the kind of person Clarke was dying to get close to, in fact he was exactly the opposite of that. She was the kind of girl that sneaked out of her window so she could go partying, and he was the kind of boy that never missed a library deadline. Entirely different worlds.

“Opposites attract,” Lincoln reminded her. “Besides, you read Shakespeare for fun. It’s basically the same thing.”

She glared at him shortly before acknowledging the first sentence he had spoken. 

“You are not trying to get me to date Bellamy, are you Lincoln?”

His ears turned red and her glare intensified, Clarke punched his shoulder, even though she knew it probably hurt her more than it hurt him. 

“This is unbelievable! You are my best friend! You are not supposed to do these things to me, Lincoln.” She walked furiously towards their usual table. “Besides, you know I don’t date boys.”

“First of all, you really need to let go of the whole Finn situation,” his voice was sweet, but stern. Clarke waved his words away as she set the tray loudly on the table, the two freshman sitting there quickly stood and left. Pleased, she sat down, encouraging Lincoln to keep talking, but leaving it clear that any Finn talk wouldn’t be appreciated, or even acknowledged. “Alright, I won’t deny that my first idea was to pay you to date Bellamy. You know, get him to loosen up a little about the idea of dating, warm him up to the idea of O and I being together.”

Clarke stopped him by raising both of her palms. “I’m not a prostitute.”

“That’s what I told her.”

“So it was  _ her  _ idea.”

“No! No, it was mine. Although not a very brilliant one,” he sighed, toying with the sad lettuce on his plate. “That idea has been crossed out, we are now going for the friendly approach. You can hang out with him, take him to the museum, keep him busy… you know, give me and O some time to actually date. Besides, you wouldn’t say no to fifty bucks, would you?”

Clarke frowned down to her tacos. “That’s not fair, you know I ran out of pastels last week. I  _ need  _ those fifty bucks.”

Lincoln beamed, he could practically smell the victory and when she took an angry bite of her food, he knew she was sold. Deep down Clarke knew that it was wrong,  _ very  _ wrong, to do it. But Lincoln and Octavia did deserve a chance to go out on a real date, and how horrible could it be to spend some time with Bellamy Blake anyway? He was okay...ish. 

“Alright, rule time.”

“Hit me.”

When the bell rang both friends walked to their own classes, and Clarke shoved a lined notebook page into her backpack. 

 

**Mission: Befriend the nerd**

 

  1. > $20 will be paid as soon as the first Clarke/Bellamy _(Bellarke_ (Lincoln, stop) _)_ interaction takes place, even if no friendly date is scheduled.

  2. > Another $30 will be given when a friendly date takes place.

  3. > Lincoln and Octavia _(Linctavia_ (Seriously, stop) _)_ will cover Clarke’s expenses during said friendly date.

  4. > If the friendly date goes well, Clarke must remain open to a possible follow up –– _which will be orchestrated to best fit Lincoln and Octavia’s date plans._

  5. > Clarke will make sure to talk Lincoln up to the best of her abilities and without being suspicious.

  6. > Clarke will not speak of the agreement with anyone (but Raven _(Raven is going to tell everyone Clarke_ (FINE) _)_ )

  7. > If Lincoln brings up Shakespeare again the fees will be doubled.




 

*******

 

“So uhm, 108 suitors? Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?” Clarke pondered out loud as she slid on the seat in front of his at the table. Bellamy took a moment to remove his eyes from the book in front of him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Uhm, Penelope. She was supposed to have 108 suitors and she flicked all of them off, but Odysseus was gone for what, twenty years? That means at least five new suitors per year. It’s excessive, don’t you think?”

“No, no… I understood that. I was just wondering what Clarke Griffin, Princess of Arkadia High, is doing in my table talking about the Odyssey with me, a humble peasant.”

“It’s a free country,” she beamed. Bellamy rolled his eyes and closed his book, leaving his finger in between the pages. “Besides you are hardly a peasant, you are wearing a letter jacket aren’t you? But, if you really must know, I’m looking for your sister.”

“She is not here,” he answered smugly, gesturing at the empty seats at the table. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” she grumbled. “I wanted to ask you if you knew where she was but it’s clear you don’t appreciate my being here, so I’m gone. If you see her around tell O I’m trying to find her.” She stood from the seat and readied herself to go. 

His hand landed on top of hers, losing his place in the book. Clarke looked up to face him, arching her eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company, that’s all. Sit, please.”

“That’s alright, I better get going anyway. The bell is about to go off.”

Bellamy nodded, removing his hand from on top of hers. Clarke swallowed.

“Why are you looking for her anyway?”

“Oh, she told me to pick her up so we could get matching tattoos on our butts.”

Bellamy glared at her, Clarke’s face broke into a smile. 

“I’m kidding, we are getting tramp stamps. Much more classy, don’t you think?” Bellamy’s glare didn’t disappear. “ _ Fine,  _ I  have a sweater of hers and a notebook. She left them at my place when we were working on that art project. Tell her to meet me by my locker after class and I’ll give them to her.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” 

Clarke nodded and she started walking away. The bell rang, but somehow she still managed to hear him calling her. She turned around confused. Bellamy was now standing up, towering over her with an amused smirk on his face. 

“You of all people should know that flicking away 108 suitors is more than achievable.”

She rolled her eyes, walking away from him and towards her classroom, only when she was sure that Bellamy was nowhere in sight she pulled out her phone, texting Lincoln with her teeth gritted. 

**I demand five dollars more, he just called me a slut.**

 

**Literally? It might have been a complicated compliment.**

 

**Ten dollars.**

*******

 

Clarke opened her locker, taking a moment to look at the decor in her door. The picture of her dad holding her when she was a baby, a postcard Wells sent her from his year abroad in London, a picture of Lincoln giving her a piggy back ride. Washi tape and some doodles covered the dull metal, and taped next to Lincoln’s picture were two tickets that hadn’t been there until that morning. 

She opened her backpack and started placing her books on their places, a little slower than she usually did. She was stalling. A couple of minutes later someone tapped her shoulder. Clarke smirked at her books before putting on a straight face and turning around. 

“Here’s your sweater, _oh.”_ She feigned surprise as Bellamy smiled in her direction and took the pink sweater from her hand. “It really does match your eyes,” she chuckled. “Here’s the notebook.” 

“Thanks. She had to run to her French tutoring session, so she asked me to pick this up for her.”

“You don’t have to give me any explanations, Bellamy. Now, if you don’t mind I have a not-French-tutoring-session place to be.”

Bellamy chuckled and moved aside so that she could close her locker and step away from it. His eyes flickered to the tickets and Clarke smiled to her shoes, they started walking down the hall towards the main entrance of the high school. 

“So, you are going to the Museum Gala?”

Clarke blinked and looked up at him, feigning innocence. “How did you know?”

“I, uh, I saw the tickets on your locker.”

“Creeper much?” She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am going… I usually go with Lincoln but this year he is busy, don’t get me wrong… the special expositions are amazing, but I am  _ not  _ looking forward to hang out with my parents and their friends by myself.” She sighed. “Who am I kidding, I’m not going this year.”

Bellamy opened his mouth to say something and Clarke faced forward, shaking her head. “You want them?”

“What?”

“The tickets, Bellamy.” She rolled her eyes as they stepped into the parking lot. “If you are interested I’ll give them to you, go ahead and take someone with you. I’ll tell my mom I have studying to do.” She shrugged, leaning against the trunk of her car as soon as they reached it. 

“But those tickets are expensive, I can’t just take them.”

“I got them for free, you can take them. I won't be losing anything.”

Bellamy looked away, his jaw clenched. Clarke couldn’t help but to follow the hard lines of his jaw for a second, blinking away those thoughts when he turned around to face her. It was obvious that he was dying to go, but his pride was stopping him from accepting the tickets just like that. 

“Fine, we’ll go together.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” He snickered, though she could see the excitement in his eyes. 

_ “As friends,”  _ she clarified. “You’ll regret not having taken the opportunity to go on your own with someone else, you are now obligated to be around my mother a whole night. So good luck with that.”

“I can handle it.”

Clarke beamed, her thoughts flickering to the new set of pastels she’d be buying the next week. 

 

*******

 

“So, you are taking him to the Museum Gala?” Octavia asked as they waited for the popcorn to be ready. “That is like three weeks away.”

Clarke shrugged. “I couldn’t ask him out just like that O, we have barely ever talked to each other.”

“I know,” Octavia spoke quietly, visibly upset as she pulled the bag out of the microwave and poured the popcorn on a bowl. “I was just hoping to go to Jasper and Monty’s party this weekend with Linc.”

Clarke sighed, grabbing a handful of popcorn before Octavia took them away and started walking to the living room, where Lincoln awaited. Once a week, she pretended to be over at Clarke’s to study math (the one subject Bellamy couldn't volunteer to help with) and she met Lincoln in the safety of the Griffins’ place. They usually watched movies or something together before Clarke disappeared into her studio to give them some privacy. 

“Well I am not asking him out to the party O, that’s just weird. He is already very smug about the fact that I asked him to go to the gala with me. I’m sorry.”

Octavia pouted, plopping herself on the couch next to Lincoln. 

“Besides you are going to the party, he can’t stop you from that. He is not your father.”

“No, but if I go he’ll want to come with me because he wouldn’t want me grabbing a ride with a random drunk guy. And I can’t exactly ask Lincoln to drop me off, because then the whole situation would be compromised. And if he goes I won't be able to be with Lincoln, I swear it is as if we were joined by the hip.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I insist honesty is the best policy.”

Lincoln scoffed. “Says the girl whose parents still think is on the cheerleader squad.”

She glared at him. “Fine then, if you convince him to go to the party I’ll keep him distracted so you two can play Seven Minutes in Heaven like the adults you are. But I am  _ not  _ asking him to go to the party, you hear me?”

Lincoln and Octavia smiled and nodded eagerly, with that being said Clarke returned her attention to her tv and pressed play. The movie resumed but she couldn’t find it in her to focus on it. When the movie was over she excused herself so she could go upstairs studio, closing the door behind her. 

She opened her school bag to look for her sketchbook, soon losing herself in a drawing and forgetting all about the couple on her couch and a certain freckled boy. 

 

*******

 

Well enough, Octavia convinced Bellamy to go with her to the party and she messaged Clarke to make sure that she wouldn’t bail on them. 

 

**Just so you know, he only agreed to go after I told him you’d be there too.**

 

**He’s probably just happy he won’t be stuck babysitting you or Miller.**

 

**He loves babysitting, though.**

 

**You do have a point. See you there.**

 

Clarke threw on her favorite pair of jeans and a leather jacket, she checked her reflection on the mirror and retouched the purple lipstick that made her mother frown for hours. She grabbed her copy of Hamlet to reread as she waited, and jumped off her bed, closing her book unceremoniously when Raven’s car pulled in front of her house. She made her way downstairs quickly and sitting on the passenger seat just half a second before Raven started driving. To the untrained eye it would have seemed as if she had just robbed the house.

“I’m guessing your mom wasn’t happy about the party?”

Clarke shrugged. “She is not happy about a lot of things, at least she is glad I am taking a boy with me to the gala.” She fluttered her eyelashes and Raven chuckled.

“She’ll be  _ so  _ disappointed when she finds out you are just playing matchmaker for Lincoln.”

Clarke chuckled. “Remember you are not supposed to know anything about this, alright? Not a word to them, or anyone.”

Raven used her fingers to zip her mouth closed and smiled at her. Pleased, Clarke turned up the volume of the music and both girls sang loudly the rest of the way. 

 

“You’ll need a ride back I suppose,” Raven told her as they exited the car and Clarke nodded, closing the door a little bit too hard. Raven glared at her. 

“Sorry. But yeah, just come find me when you are ready to leave. I should go find Bellamy.”

“You don’t even know if he is here yet, did O text you?”

“That’s his car over there.”

“Stalker much?”

“I’m just doing my job,” Clarke remarked making Raven laugh. Her laughter was soon drowned out as they entered Jasper’s house, the loud music and overlapping drunk conversations surrounded them. 

“I’ll see you around,” Raven yelled into her ear and Clarke nodded, heading towards the kitchen. If she was going to spend the night distracting Bellamy she might as well get started with her drinking. 

She was mixing her rum and coke when a familiar face appeared in front of her. 

“Miller!”

“You made it!” He stated before giving her a short hug, he was already drunk. Clarke smiled. Even when high school had placed some distance in between them she would always be fond of Miller, there were far too many shared childhood memories for them not to be friends forever. 

“Hey, have you seen Octavia?”

“Yeah! This is for her actually.” He raised one of the glasses he was holding. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

Clarke nodded with yet another smile and followed Miller across the house, in the living room a familiar group of people was laughing on the couches. It was a great spot, to be honest, the music was only loud enough and they had comfortable seats, plus no one seemed to be in the verge of vomiting nearby. Perks of being friends with the host, probably. 

“Look who I found!” Miller announced, Monty and Jasper cheered.

Octavia’s face lightened and Clarke walked up to the couch, letting herself fall on the empty spot in between Bellamy and his sister. 

“I’m so glad you are here, I thought you’d leave me alone with the scary seniors.”

“C’mon O, we’ll be scary seniors next year.”

" _You_ are already scary, Clarke," Jasper chimed in and she winked an eye at him.

Miller handed Octavia her drink and went to sit by his boyfriend, laughing at something Monty whispered on his ear. 

“Where’s my drink?” Bellamy asked, Miller stared at him confused. 

“You asked me for a refill?”

Bellamy sighed, standing up. Clarke was surprised to see him stagger a little. It might have been her imagination. “I’ll be back,” he announced to no one in particular before disappearing in the crowd in search of his refill.

“Go now, I saw Lincoln by the game room. I’ll tell your brother that you are with Harper.” 

“I could just kiss you right now,” Octavia giggled as she grabbed her drink and jacket. 

“I’ll settle with our previous agreement,” Clarke chuckled as she watched her friend walk away. She turned her attention to Jasper and his very interesting anecdote of a Never Have I Ever game that went wrong. After a couple of moments, Bellamy towered over them visibly looking for his sister.

“Octavia went with Harper and Monroe," Clarke told him, tugging on his shirt a little to claim his attention. "I think they mentioned hard drugs and a prostitution ring, but I could be wrong.”

She could get used to Bellamy’s glare, to be honest. Clarke broke into a smile. 

“Wait, I remember now. They were going to the game room, how did I mix those up?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and sat on the couch next to her. 

“Alcohol’s getting to your head, Princess. You are not driving back, are you?”

“No, Raven’s giving me a ride. And I appreciate your concern, but I am not drunk. Not drunker than you at least.”

“I’m completely sober, thank you very m- _ –wait _ , Raven? Raven Reyes?” Clarke nodded, raising her eyebrows in order to invite him to specify. “I’m sorry, that’s just odd. Isn’t she your ex?”

She let out a long sigh, leaving her red cup on the table in front of her. 

“We broke up amicably, incredibly amicably. Meg Ryan and Greg Kinnear in  _ You’ve Got Mail  _ amicably. In fact, we both agree that –– even when it was awesome –– we shouldn’t have dated in the first place. We are meant to be friends. That’s all.”

“You were quite the story amongst the ‘scary seniors’ you know?”

“We were quite the story amongst the whole school, even freshmen were gossiping about us.”

“Poor Finn,” Bellamy chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Excuse me? Are you  _ defending  _ him?” Clarke loved Lincoln, and sure she had already told Anya in the art supplies store to save the pastels for her. But she was  _ not _ going to put up with Bellamy (or anyone) defending Finn. She started to get ready to leave. 

For the second time in the week he stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers, Clarke wasn’t sure why she allowed him to have that effect on her. It must have been the pastels. 

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, of course he had it coming. He deserved to have you both leave him and the whole school judging him. But he still had a hard time.  _ Has,  _ present tense. He made his own bed, but it sure is an uncomfortable one. Only an idiot would piss off the Princess of Arkadia High.”

“What’s with the Princess nickname anyway?”

“It was around before the whole Finn situation,” Bellamy shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I meant what I said earlier this week, if anyone could accomplish 108 suitors in their high school years that would be you.”

“Must be why I’m still single,” she scoffed, tucking her legs beneath her. 

“You are just waiting for your Odysseus, that’s all.”

Clarke smiled down to her lap, grateful for the dim lighting that concealed her blush. When she looked up Bellamy was obviously getting ready to change the subject, and so they did. Clarke sank on the couch, laughing freely as she talked about movies and art and history with none other than Bellamy Blake. More than once, Miller made sure their cups were full, even when Clarke had given up on drinking after the second rum and coke. 

 

“Excuse me, Legally Blonde is  _ the  _ feminist movie.”

“Simone de Beauvoir is twisting and turning in her grave because of your words,” she accused him. 

“I bet Simone de Beauvoir would endorse Elle Woods,” he slurred. “Besides, you haven’t even watched it. You can’t make a judgement without watching it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but finally agreed to watch the movie before the Museum Gala. Bellamy smiled, pleased, and turned around to try and find Miller. But as soon as his eyes fell on him and Monty and their rather  _ compromised  _ position, it was clear that he wouldn’t be up for a refill. 

“Come with me to the kitchen?” He asked, standing up. “You can, of course, stay here to watch those two eat each other’s faces, or draw on Jasper’s sleeping face.”

“Tempting,” Clarke chuckled, grabbing her clutch and standing up. The two of them started walking towards the kitchen, making their way around dancing bodies and unashamed couples, only then did she notice Bellamy’s wobbly legs. “You are staggering, Blake.”

“ _ You  _ are staggering, Clarke. I’m completely sober.”

“No you are not,” she protested as they reached the kitchen. 

“Yes I am, I’ve been drinking punch the whole night. As in designated driver’s punch, no alcohol on it.”

Much to his surprise, Clarke burst out laughing at him. In fact she was laughing so much it made him chuckle himself, letting go of the punch bowl. 

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t believe they tricked you,” she breathed out in between fits of laughter. “That punch is fifty percent cheap alcohol fifty percent sugar, that’s why you didn’t recognize the moonshine, the sugar masks it. Bellamy you are  _ plastered.”  _

“I am not!”

“Stand on one leg,” she dared him, a wicked smile on her face. 

Bellamy glared her for an instant before leaving his empty cup on the counter, very proudly locking his eyes with hers as he proceeded to try and stand on one leg. 

He failed miserably. 

Clarke caught him in between fits of laughter. “I told you.”

“I’m supposed to drive us back, damn it.” He looked down at her helplessly. “You think I’ll be sober enough to drive at two am?”

“I don’t think you’ll be sober enough to drive until midday tomorrow,” she snickered. 

He groaned. “Octavia freaks out driving at night.”

“I’ll drive you,” she offered with a shrug. “Look, the party is obviously over for you already. And if I get home early I might get brownie points with my mom, everyone wins.”

“Not Octavia, I bet she is having fun.”

“I’ll ask Raven to give her a ride… or better yet, Lincoln. Your place is just on the way to his.”

“Lincoln?”

“You know, tall as a grizzly bear, innocent as a care bear. He is my best friend, and he doesn’t drink.”

“I know who Lincoln is,” he grumbled, leaning against her. Clarke struggled to keep Bellamy standing, now that he was aware of his drunkenness it was harder and harder to keep him from taking a nap on Jasper’s kitchen floor. “I just don’t know him well enough to trust him my sister.”

“Well, I do. He’ll take good care of her. Now let’s get you outside in the fresh air before you puke on my shoes.”

“I don’t puke.”

“Let’s keep it that way, alright?” 

The couple made their way through the sweaty and intoxicated adolescent bodies as they walked towards the door. Bellamy handed her the keys and Clarke lowered all the windows before helping him into the passenger seat. It was pathetic, really, a grown ass guy like him. But it was adorable too, just a bit. 

“Wait here, I’m going to find your sister, Lincoln and Raven.”

Bellamy hummed in approval, already falling asleep. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, walking back inside the party. She hadn’t realized how loud the music was until she had spent a few minutes on the quiet outside. It didn’t take her long to find her friends, Raven was more than okay with her riding with Bellamy, and Octavia was beyond ecstatic as she learned she’d have more time with Lincoln than predicted. 

“Are you sure you didn’t get him drunk on purpose?” Lincoln teased her, Clarke elbowed his ribs. 

“He fell for the punch joke, I swear your brother is way too naive for his own good.” 

“He has you now,” Octavia sing sang and Clarke glared at the couple. 

“If he pukes on me you are giving me another $50.”

 

Bellamy jolted awake when she closed the door, even when she had tried to do it delicately. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” he moaned. “Is it possible to be hungover already?”

“I think you are just still very drunk.”

Bellamy moaned in pain again, and Clarke chuckled as she turned on the engine. She drove quickly, taking advantage of the unusually empty streets at night. It had been long since she had last drove a car this late, her parents had installed a strict curfew after she was called into the principal’s offer for urging all the girls in her class to not wear a bra. 

“How are you going to get home?”

“I thought about getting a cab,” she shrugged, her fingers tapping the wheel gently as she waited for a red light to turn green. 

“Nonsense, you can take the car. Consider it drunken chivalry.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you are smashed.”

“I meant it.”

“Alright, we’ll work out the ransom as soon as you are sober.”

Bellamy let out a laugh and then motioned at the street light, it went from green to red and she cursed. “You missed it,” he announced uselessly. She rolled her eyes. 

The next time the light turned green she made sure to hit the gas, though it was hard to take her eyes off him, it was impossible not to notice the way his freckles drew constellations under the soft street lights. 

The rest of the road was uneventful, a few comments were exchanged but Clarke could tell that he was trying too hard to  _ not  _ be drunk to actually have a coherent conversation. When she finally stopped the car in front of his house, she was surprised to not see him jump out immediately in search for an aspirin. 

“The lights are on,” she commented lightly. 

“Must be Shum,” he spat. Clarke arched an eyebrow and Bellamy sighed. “My mother’s asshole boyfriend.”

Clarke nodded and looked away. “Should I drive around the block?”

“The less movement the better, I think.” Clarke awaited patiently, her eyes fixed on the dim light coming out of the windows of his house. “He never stays over, so he should be gone any minute.”

“You want me to wait?”

“If you don’t mind.”

She turned off the engine. “I don’t mind.”

 

*******

“Clarke, a boy was asking for you earlier.” Her mother said without looking up from the newspaper. Clarke sighed, walking towards her mother’s study, her entrance had obviously not gone unnoticed. “The maid said you instructed her to give the car keys to a certain Bellamy Blake in case he showed up while you were gone.”

“I did, yes.”

“Is he the boy you are taking to the gala? Octavia's brother?” 

“Yes, mom.”

That was the moment Abby Griffin chose to look up. “He is very handsome, you know?” 

Clarke’s stomach knotted, and before she could stop herself she heard her own voice replying. “I know.”

“Good. He left something for you, it’s in your bedroom.”

She read the post it note stuck to the donut box a thousand times, and when she could recite by heart the words on it she threw it at the garbage can. Because this was business, not pleasure, and there was no reason for her stomach to be doing backflips except for the fact that she loved chocolate donuts. 

 

**12/108 donuts.**

**Thank you for everything Princess.**

**––B**

  
  
  


*******

 

By the time the museum gala arrived, the donut count had upped to 30. It had turned into a running private joke between the two; Bellamy saved her a chocolate donut from the coffee shop he worked part time at, and Clarke made sure to pick up an extra one whenever they were serving them at the cafeteria. Miller always raised his eyebrow whenever she stopped by their table to leave the donut for Bellamy, usually before he arrived to lunch, she always responded with a wink of her eye.

Clarke started hanging out by the coffee shop on the afternoons to do her homework, which distracted him enough not to care about the fact that Octavia had dropped the piano lessons he had signed her up for. It was also making wonders for Clarke’s classes, since she started handing assignments on time. Her carefully planned strategy to ace her classes with minimal work was now compromised, and as a result she started getting along with her teachers, to the point she was only sent to the principal’s office once or twice a week.

Lincoln was insufferable. Not only did he have a shit eating grin plastered on his face all the time, mostly because he had been hanging out with Octavia twice as much as usual –– and outside of broom closets. But also, because according to Octavia, Bellamy just wouldn’t stop talking about his new friend Clarke Griffin. And Lincoln loved playing Cupid . 

“I’m just saying, the other day I looked for you during lunch and you were at his table,” Lincoln stated nonchalantly, but his smirk gave him away. Clarke wanted to punch that smile away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had to ask for your permission to sit with someone else during lunch. Besides, you should be grateful to me, you got to actually eat lunch with Octavia. No more obnoxious texting and sitting back to back to each other.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes and Clarke looked away. 

“It’s okay to like him, you know?”

“Well I _ don’t  _ like him. I enjoy talking to him because he is not a total idiot. But I don’t like him. He could move out of town tomorrow and the only thing I’d miss would be the free donuts.”

“That’s cold, Clarke.”

“Well, I did accept 50 bucks to befriend him. I don’t know what you were expecting from me,” she hissed before disappearing in the sea of bodies that made their way to class. 

 

But it got worse, aside from Lincoln and Octavia, there was a third person who was beyond thrilled about Bellamy and Clarke’s newfound friendship: her mother. Abigail Griffin had been painfully happy ever since the post-party incident. She had caught glimpses of Bellamy when he dropped her off at her house after a long night of chatting in his coffee shop, or when he had showed up to pick up Octavia and Clarke had led him into the kitchen for a glass of lemonade. 

She had been going on and on about Clarke’s new boyfriend during dinners, following her to her room to ask for details she wouldn’t give in front of her stepfather. Clarke had made it a mental note to clear up things with her mother before the gala, but she soon desisted. It had been a long time in the Griffin’s household since Clarke and her mother had stayed off each other’s hair for more than three days, her mother was actually  _ smiling  _ at her whenever they ran into each other in the labyrinth-like hallways of the house. So when Bellamy rang the doorbell Clarke cursed under her breath and dropped her eyeliner halfway through her cat eye when she realized her mother was still expecting for her  _ boyfriend  _ to show up. 

“I got it!” She cried out, kicking off her heels before rushing downstairs. 

“That’s what maids are for, Clarke!” Abby scolded from her own bedroom, and she was ignored.

When Clarke reached the door, Bellamy was already inside handing his coat to one of the maids. She miscalculated the braking distance and accidentally slammed into him, without a second of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling.

“Woah, eager to see me?” He chuckled. “Clarke what the hell is going on with your make up, are you alright?”

“Last minute warning, my mother might think we are dating,” she blurted out. 

Bellamy’s dumbfound expression was priceless, if Clarke wasn’t on the verge of a heart attack she would have found it hilarious. Before he got the chance to say anything, Marcus Kane walked out of the living room to meet them, Clarke forced on a gentle smile for his stepfather. 

“So you must be the Bellamy we hear so much about,” he greeted, smiling to Clarke. She made a mental note to kill herself later. Kane offered his hand to Bellamy, and much to Clarke’s surprise, the freckled boy recovered quickly returning the handshake promptly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, sir.”

“Call me Marcus.” Clarke almost rolled her eyes, she could tell he had just been  _ dying  _ to use that line. “Care to join me in the living room while the ladies finish touching up?”

Kane allowed his eyes to linger on Clarke’s halfdone make up before heading back to the living room, she heard scotch pouring and the dingling of ice on his glass. Only then did she realize Bellamy still had one of his arms strongly wrapped around her. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll explain later. And I owe you, big time,” she whispered, untangling herself from his hold. 

Once more, Bellamy was left with the words on his mouth. He clenched his now empty hand, watching Clarke’s dress flutter behind her as she ran up the stairs. After a deep breath he walked into the living room, ready to play the fake part that had been thrust upon him. 

 

Clarke’s midnight blue dress sparkled as they stepped into the Museum’s lobby, but it was nothing compared to the gleam in Bellamy’s eyes as he took in the scene before him, making Clarke chuckle under her breath. His worn tuxedo stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t seem to care. Not with all of the exhibitions surrounding him. 

“So, private tours start in forty minutes. We are supposed to have cocktails and make awkward chit chat with rich guys for a while, and then we can go enjoy the museum and then there’s dinner. With more chit chat,” she explained into his ear. 

“Sounds perfect,  _ sweetheart.”  _

“Shut up!” Clarke smacked the back of his head when her mother was not looking. “It’s not my fault you always bring food when you come pick up Octavia, in my mother’s books that means a marriage proposal isn’t far behind.”

“Why didn’t you tell her we are just friends?” He challenged. 

“I like it when she is happy, she might finally buy me a pony.” Bellamy laughed. “Besides, I figured it wouldn’t matter. She is going with Kane on a cruise in a few weeks. By the time she comes back we can be broken up and she will move on.”

“I see you’ve thought this through.”

“You have to, when you have a mother like mine.”

Bellamy soon realized how accurate that was, Clarke orchestrated her moves perfectly to please her mother. She took turns walking amongst the guests, introducing Bellamy to whomever started conversation with them, but as soon as she saw her mother approaching an important guest she was quick to rejoin her side, smiling widely at people with the most ridiculous surnames he had ever seen. When they were split for the private tours, Bellamy knew for sure that it had been Clarke’s doing. 

“We’ll be seeing you two at dinner, enjoy the tour Bellamy,” Abby said before Kane guided her away. Clarke was positive she had never heard her mother use such a sugary tone before.

The tours had always been her favorite part of the museum galas, ever since she was first forced into attending when she was ten. There was something magical about having the museum all for them, the best guides were available instead of herding ungrateful children through the museum, there were no pseudo intellectuals cramming around her favorite art pieces. She loved being in the museum with only people who cared about Art and History as much as she did, and being with Bellamy only made it better. 

He whispered small pieces of trivia into her ear, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back at the perfect pace. She always had more than enough time to think about what the guide had said, what Bellamy had added to the explanation and to fully absorb the works of art in front of her. 

Her quiet laughter bubbled in her chest when Bellamy corrected the guide in small whispers, her eyes widening at every piece of unknown information he shared with her, and just with her. It was magic. Being with Bellamy, she realized, was easy. Way too easy. So when he offered her his hand to walk into the dining room, she took it without hesitation, their fingers linking without her thinking about it, in fact she only realized when he let go of her hand so he could pull out her chair. 

_ Must be the pastels,  _ she thought.  _ It’s been so long since I’ve had new pastels.  _

Clarke thought about all the times she had attended the same dinner with Lincoln, how it had been hard to try and keep him away from her mother and her poisonous tongue, trying to spare him. With Bellamy, she didn’t have to. He made conversation with her mother about the tour and the paintings he had seen at their home’s living room. He asked Kane about business, and laughed at the boring jokes the other men in the table made. He fit in seamlessly, all through the dinner he impressed  the table while resting a reassuring hand on Clarke’s knee. 

 

*******

 

“Why don’t you take the car and drive Bellamy home darling?”

“Yeah, we’ll catch a ride with the Jahas,” Kane confirmed, waving to the dark skinned man across the room. 

The wide smile on her mother’s face assured Clarke that it had all been staged. “It was lovely to meet you Bellamy, I expect to see you again soon,” Abby said, reaching for Bellamy’s hand, which he shook gladly. Clarke didn’t miss how the last part of the sentence was directed to her. 

Once all the goodbyes were said, the younger couple stepped into Kane’s expensive car and Clarke handed Bellamy her heels before turning on the engine. 

“I don’t get why you are always complaining about your parents.”

“That’s because they like  _ you _ , if they behaved like that all the time, trust me, I wouldn’t be complaining.” 

Bellamy chuckled and Clarke knew he was rolling his eyes at her, even when she couldn’t turn around to face him. Which was a good thing, because hiding her blush in the faint lights of the car’s dashboard was easier when she was facing forward. The blush was brought to her cheeks because of Bellamy’s following words: 

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t break up then. So that they can continue to act like this.” 

During the past weeks of their friendship, Clarke had discovered that talking to Bellamy was as easy as staying quiet next to him. She didn’t feel the need to fill every single silence with small talk, and she didn’t feel like biting his head off whenever he spoke. But after he spoke those particular words, they were both swallowed by an awkward silence that lasted all the way to his house. Once again, the lights were turned on. 

“Keep driving,” Bellamy begged in a whisper, and Clarke obliged. “Octavia’s not home tonight, she’s staying at my grandma’s. You can drop me off at Miller’s.”

“Nonsense, last time he left around one in the morning. And I bet you are starving, those fancy dinners are never big enough. We should find something to eat.”

“At midnight?” Clarke allowed her eyes to flicker to him shortly, he was still tense, as if he was waiting for her to ask him about the comment he had made earlier. 

“There must be  _ someplace  _ open.”

“We could go to the coffee shop, I have the keys.”

“Breaking and entering, huh?” Clarke snickered, and Bellamy laughed. As he laughed and she turned right on the next street to drive towards the coffee shop, she could feel the air lighten. 

 

“Favorite flower?”

Bellamy arched his eyebrow. “Do I look like a guy that would have a favorite flower?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, making herself more comfortable on top of the counter. “So what is it?”

“I really like sunflowers, they are big and cheerful.”

“I like violets,” Clarke added, biting into her donut. Bellamy’s expression encouraged her to explain, but before she could figure out a fake reason, she found herself reciting the sonnet with an even voice. 

> _ The forward violet thus did I chide: _
> 
> _ Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, _
> 
> _ If not from my love's breath? The purple pride _
> 
> _ Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells _
> 
> _ In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. _
> 
> _ The lily I condemned for thy hand,  _
> 
> _ And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: _
> 
> _ The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,  _
> 
> _ One blushing shame, another white despair;  _
> 
> _ A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both  _
> 
> _ And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;  _
> 
> _ But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth  _
> 
> _ A vengeful canker eat him up to death.  _
> 
> _ More flowers I noted, yet I none could see _
> 
> _ But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.  _

This time, there was not enough darkness to conceal her blush, but Bellamy didn’t mock her, instead he smiled and asked with the same quiet voice she had used. “What’s that?”

“That’s Shakespeare,” she explained, looking down to the pastry on her hand. “Sonnet 99. And if you ever tell anyone, especially Octavia, that I know it by heart I will kill you.”

“Why wouldn’t you want people knowing? You can recite Shakespeare by heart, Clarke. That is quite a talent you have there.”

She shrugged, taking a slow breath before looking up to meet Bellamy’s kind eyes with hers. “It’s not a talent that goes along with the image I’ve built for myself, you know? Think about it, before you and I started talking, and before I started hanging out with your sister. What did you think about me?”

“I thought you were pretty, but all of Arkadia High thinks that. And I thought you were badass, for handling the Finn situation the way you did. Miller was always telling us stories his dad told him, about the way you got into trouble every week but Jaha spared you because he is friends with your parents. I thought you were a heartbreaker.”

“See? Now throw in ‘major Shakespeare fan’, it doesn’t really fit.”

“But  _ why _ ?” Clarke shifted in her place, now uncomfortable by the turn the conversation had taken. “Why do you put up that front? Sure, you are badass, and pretty and fun. But you are not a troublemaker, you are not an asshole. Why do you insist on everyone seeing you that way?”

“Because I won’t be hurt again, Bellamy,” she snapped. “Everyone talks about how badass it was for me to kiss Raven as soon as I realized Finn was cheating on us both, because that’s what they saw. No one saw me cry, and I intend on keeping it that way.”

Bellamy sighed, using his coffee as an excuse to tear his gaze off her. While avoiding her eyes, he noticed the clock on the wall. “It’s nearly two am.”

“Already?” Clarke looked at the time on her phone and sighed. “I should probably get you home. You think he is gone already?”

Bellamy nodded quietly and Clarke jumped off the counter. The two of them quickly erased all traces of their breaking and entering and stepped into the car. 

“Can I ask you something?” Clarke said after a while, breaking the silence. 

“Sure. It’s only fair, so far it has been only me who is invading your privacy.”

Clarke smiled at the highway. “Why are you so hard on Octavia?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are always signing her up for classes, you check on her at least four times whenever she is at my place. You won’t let her date.”

“I let her date,” he grumbled. But he sighed in defeat after Clarke shot him a short look. “I just don’t want her to end up like my mom. She has the same magnet for assholes my mom does, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She likes Lincoln, you know?” Clarke blurted out before she could hold her tongue. “And he is not an asshole. I can atest to that.”

“He is older than her,” Bellamy barked. 

“So what?” She challenged, parking in front of his house. All the lights were off. “I didn’t tell you they are getting married. Hell, they aren’t even dating.” The lie tasted sour in her tongue, but she forced herself to keep talking. “I’m just saying she likes him, and he likes her back. So I advise you to loosen up on her, unless you want her to lie to you. That’s what happened between my parents and me, she trusts you enough to tell you things now, don't make that change.”

Surrounded by darkness, both of them had to lean in closer to try and make out each other’s faces out of the shadows. When Bellamy spoke again, she could feel his breath on her face. It smelled like coffee, like warmth. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Listening to me, talking to me, giving me advice, taking me to the gala. Take your pick, I have more.”

Clarke laughed gently, and that was the moment Bellamy chose to lean forward to kiss her. A million alarms went off on her head, her eyes widened in panic and she pulled back violently, missing his lips only for a few millimeters. 

Bellamy looked at her for a fraction of a second, the pain and embarrassment was obvious in his face as his hand searched for the door’s handle behind his back. Without saying a word, he opened the door and jumped outside, rushing towards his house. When he turned around to see her, Clarke was already driving at full speed away from him.


End file.
